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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 



( 



The Glory of Greylock 



WRITTEN AS A SOUVENIR OF 
AN EXCURSION 

Made by Mr. Joseph W. Hollister and Mr. Clarence A. Crandell 
of the Evening Eagle, Mr. Mothew J. Capless of the Spring- 
field Republican, Mr. Carey S. Hayward, Mr. Joseph 
H. Master son and Mr. Alfred C. Daniels of the 
Evening Journal, Mr. William H. Newton and 
Mr. Francis W. Rockwell. 



BY 
FRANCIS W. ROCKWELL 




BOSTON, MASS. 
1921 



Ft 2. 



coptright 1921 
By Francis W. Rockwell 

All rights reserved 



Thanhs are due to Mr. Charles T. Barker of Pittsfield, 

for permission to use some of the photographs 

from his large collection 



SEAVER-HOWLAND PRESS, BOSTON 

D£C-,r2l 

^C!.A630564 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Greylock from the residence of Mr. Arthur B. Daniels near the foot 

of the Hoosacs. (Insert) Mr. Francis W. Rockwell .... Frontispiece 

Three slides from Mt. Greylock, seen from the east. Greylock and 

the Bellows-Pipe Facing page 2 

Adams and the Hoosacs. Raven's Crag, North Adams, and the 

Whitcomb Hills " "8 

Northeast from Tower. Adams from Bellows-Pipe. The County 

Commissioner's Road, below the cut in the rocks .... " "18 

Summit Tower. The Cathedral Woods. In "The Heart of Grey- 
lock." On North Adams Road " "26 

The ocean of mist seen from the summit. The ocean of mist pour- 
ing into the Bellows-Pipe, a thousand feet below. South from 
Tower in early morning " "32 

Greylock from the South, overlooking the city of Pittsfield. Adams 

from the Smnmit. The Camping-ground " "40 

Greylock from the east. On the North Adams Road. The Cottage 
from the Tower, and the old barn on the right (1910). The 
Taconics in the west " "48 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 



Now men there be that love the plain 
With yellow cornland dressed, 

And others love the sleepy vales 
Where lazy cattle rest; 

But some men love the ancient hills, 
And these have chosen best. 

For in the hills a man may go 

Forever as he list, 
And see a net of distant worlds 

Where streams and valleys twist 
A league below, and seem to hold 

The whole earth in his fist. 



W. N. Hodgson 

in the Spectator. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

It is sixteen and two-tenths miles from the Soldier's 
Monument in Pittsfield to the tower on the summit 
of Mt. Greylock. The way lies, northerly, along the 
shore of Pontoosuc lake. In the morning the green- 
clad domes of the Taconics, on the west, lend a charm 
to the scene which is enhanced by their own reflection 
in the mirror of the Lake. On the north is Constitu- 
tion Hill, the grass land parting its forests, overlooking, 
from the single oak on its summit, the lakes Pontoosuc 
and Onota in a valley of uncommon beauty. In the 
north-east rise the twin peaks of Greylock flooded with 
sunshine. This lake is beautiful at all times, especially 
when "its still waters lie dreaming in the dawn." 

It is a delightful drive thence to Lanesborough and 
still northerly, through the village street, for two 
miles, turning to the right just beyond the stone school- 
house, and soon to the left up the ridge where lies 
*'The Rockwell Road to Greylock." 

As we climb the height there are revealed increas- 
ingly attractive views. On the east is the long range 
of the Hoosacs, on the west, the Taconics. We are told 
that long long ago, there was a range of mountains 
between them extending the length of Berkshire; that 
Greylock was in that range, but twice its present 
height; that floods, glaciers, foldings, and erosion have 
done their work; breaking through the chain, dwarf- 
ing the mountain heights, cutting out the valleys. 
It seems hardly possible that the statement is true 
a-nd that a great semi-circular lake once surrounded 
Greylock on the north, leaving the present sites of 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Williamstown, North Adams and Adams six hundred 
feet more or less under water, but so the geologists 
tell us, and we must believe the tale even if it grieves 
us to yield up the phrase "the everlasting hills." 

Whatever may have happened before the memory of 
man, the fact remains that out of all the old commotions 
and changes a fair world was left; and so it is impos- 
sible, as we climb the ridge, to keep from looking back 
over the present central and southern Berkshire, a 
semi-circular valley guarded round about by moun- 
tains. In the center view are woods, hills and fields. 
The lakes, Pontoosuc and Onota, lie wide-spread in 
placid beauty. At the foot of the roadway is the 
little Savage Mountain in Lanesborough, its wood- 
crowned summit increasing in charm as the road 
ascends. The view embraces more than half the 
Berkshire townships. 

Far up the hills, in the north-east, is Savoy, famed 
for its walks, drives and mountain scenery; then, as 
the eye ranges southerly, Windsor, with its clustering 
houses, where, but a few rods apart, are the sources of 
the Westfield and Housatonic rivers; Peru, where the 
old church roof divided the raiiifall between the Hous- 
atonic and Connecticut River valleys; Washington, 
where the railroad crosses over the Hoosac range; 
Becket, where the people were early noted for longev- 
ity and patriotism; Otis and its mountain lakes, and 
Sandisfield with its varied formation; — a line of town- 
ships along the crest of the mountain range. Nearby 
in the valleys or on the hills on the west and south- 
west. New Ashford, lying close in the valley west of 
the Greylock range with two streams finding their 
source nearby its southern border; the east branch of 

[21 




Top. Three slides on Mt. Greylock, seen from the east. 
Bottom. Greylock and the Bellows-Pipe. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

the Green River flowing northerly to Williamstown, 
and thence to the Hudson, and the west branch of the 
Housatonic flowing southerly, into Long Island Sound; 
Hancock, its village just over the first range, walled 
in on either side by mountains. Farther south is West 
Stockbridge with Tom Ball lifting his head; Alford on 
the eastern declivity of the Taconics; lovely Egre- 
mont, and Mt. Washington where rises the dome of 
the Taconics, now a State reservation, "Mt. Everett." 

Just below us, to the south, is Lanesborough, its fertile 
fields stretching to Pontoosuc Lake, a town rich in 
scenic beauty with its Savage Mountain, Farnham Hill, 
and Constitution Hill; and then the shire city 
of Pittsfield, half hidden in the trees. South of 
Pittsfield lies Lenox on the heights, and then Stock- 
bridge, a jewel in a jeweled plain, where dwelt the 
Indians who were ** the friends of our fathers ; " and 
over beyond Monument Mountain, Great Baurington, 
far famed for its stately old elms and picturesque land- 
scapes. 

Still farther south is ancient SheflSeld, of the wide- 
spread elms and long lovely street, guarded on the 
west by the Taconic range of mountains, and then the 
hills of north-weste^rn Connecticut. To the east of 
Pittsfield lies Dalton, in a beautiful valley where Zenas 
Crane, in 1799, found springs of pure water and a site 
for the first paper mill in Western Massachusetts. 
To the east of Dalton lies Hinsdale, named in honor of 
Rev. Theodore HijQsdale, the first settled pastor. 

Lee, whence came the marble for the national Cap- 
itol and Soldiers' Home; Tyringham, a town of unusual 
scenic beauty, its village now in one of the most beau- 
tiful of all the Berkshire valleys, and Monterey, with 

f3l 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

its lakes and Chestnut Hill, lie in the valley which runs 
down southerly from Pittsfield; while Richmond, to the 
right of Yokun's Seat, justly proud of its Perry's Peak, 
lies in the valley southwesterly from Pittsfield, the 
heights of Lenox separating these two charming valleys; 
New Marlborough with its rare hilltops. Lake Buel, 
Balance Rock, and lovely stream, lies upon the south- 
ern sky-line directly south of us, where the first settler 
is said to haVe passed the severe winter alone, bringing 
his supplies from Shefiield on snow shoes and against 
whom the Indian hunters enforced their game law as 
to the killing of deer with a gun. 

The local history of all these Berkshire townships is 
full of interest. All the Berkshire towns have sent 
forth soldiers to our wars, men of genius to our cities. 
Every township has been the birthplace or residence 
of those who have made their mark at home or in dis- 
tant fields of effort. Upon or within the shelter of 
these hills have lived men and women worthy of the 
beautiful natural environment, inventors, writers, pro- 
fessional and business men, missionaries, teachers, 
preachers, poets, philanthropists, soldiers and states- 
men. 

The roll is a long and an honorable one. We over- 
look the valley where Holmes, Longfellow, Bryant, 
Hawthorne, and Herman Melville loved to linger, and 
wrote their tribute to the hills ; where Miss Catherine 
Sedgwick penned the earliest American fiction; where, 
each succeeding summer, people of literary fame were 
wont to gather. 

We overlook townships whence the early settlers 
emigrated to the west, one local history in the State 
of New York proclaiming Berkshire County as "the 

[4] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

mother of empires," in recognition of the emigrations 
and far-reaChing influence of her people. 

A mile and a half up the ridge, a few rods to the 
right of the roadway, south of the old stone wall fence, 
is a view of the eastern valley with the village of Ches- 
hire in a delightful setting. To the west one glances 
down upon the curve on the lower roadway winding 
over Pratt Hill in upper Lanesborough. The breaks in 
the western chain of mountains give glimpses of the 
Catskills. Two miles to the east are seen the horizon- 
tal benches, or terraces, as they follow down the ridge 
east of Kitchen Brook, forming a stairway where 
giants might walk down to Cheshire. 

We catch a glimpse of Saddle Ball, and soon, just 
peeping over the roadway in front of us, seven miles 
away, is Greylock with the tower on its summit. Far- 
ther on is the cliff, bare in early spring and the late 
autumn, but in June its steep face in great part cov- 
ered with foliage, known as Round's Rock. 

They tell us that in the far-off time it was shaped by 
the glaciers. When first seen from the roadway it 
would seem to bar our progress, but on the east the 
little ravine road runs up through the wooded cliff. 
At the c*rest of the road, on the left, a little guide 
board points the foot path to its summit. A twenty 
minutes' walk to the top and back repays the effort. 

There are many fine views of central and south- 
ern Berkshire from the mountains on the east, west 
and south, but this view from the north is possibly the 
most attractive of them all. Midway between the 
eastern and western mountain ranges, this cliff, al- 
though a thousand feet lower, yields a view of Southern 
Berkshire superior to that from Greylock itself. "It 

[5] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

is a spot to visit again and again chiefly toward sun- 
set." To the north you may see the blue dome of Mt. 
Anthony in Vermont ; to the east Monadnock, and 
Wachusett, rising over the Hoosacs. To the south 
you look upon the southern Berkshire valley. 

'* Through tiiis superb upland valley flows, renowned 
in song and story, 'the blue winding Housatonic,' 
receiving in its myriad graceful meanders the silvery 
tribute of unnumbered rills and streamlets." 

To the west lies the Taconic range, and beyond, 
through the breaks in the mountain wall, the Cat- 
skills. The scenery here will show to the best advan- 
tage "in a spring morning when the sun shines out 
after rain," or at evening when the shadows lengthen 
from the western foot hills, or when "the sun is about 
to rise into a world already flushed with dawn," or 
when the mist-wreaths are carried by the breeze along 
the mountain sides. " The place is siblitary, far from 
wind and smoke, cool and bright, a fit abode for gods." 

Words cannot adequately describe the beauty of the 
Berkshire valley when viewed from this point. No 
painting or photograph can do it justice. Always inter- 
esting, the charm of this landscape varies with the 
changing seasons, with the atmospheric or cloud con- 
ditions. When one adds to an appreciation of the 
scenic beauty an intimate acquaintance with the local 
history and the literary efforts which have made the 
valley famous, then one indeed must travel far to find 
the satisfying equal of this spot. 

There are days when matchless charm lies outside 
the towns. On such days seek out this cliff ! 

A mile beyond Round's Rock, on the right of the 
road, is the projecting southern face of the mountain 

[61 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

sloping southerly from Saddle Ball. It is a quaint, 
picturesque hillside, flanked by a fringe of trees, bear- 
ing the old-time name of Jones' Nose. There is a view 
of the mountain stretching to the east where the forest 
is very attractive. This can best be seen from the 
branching roadways a mile farther to the east. There 
is a little rock, for a seat, far up the grassy slope, but 
the climb from the roadway is steep and slippery. This 
rock is just above the marker on the north line of 
Cheshire. 

From the roadway west of Jones' Nose there is a good 
view of the narrow western valley, as it runs south 
and north; and one may look over it from Connecticut 
far up into Vermont. Through this valley our Berk- 
shire Revolutionary fathers marched to Bennington. 
On the western side of the valley, nestling amid the 
foothills, is the little New Ashford church. 

We are approaching the mountain from the south. 
It is to be kept in mind that the northern approach, 
in a different way, is equally attractive if not more so. 
While southern Berkshire is far-famed for its picturesque 
natural scenery, the wild, rugged, romantic beauty of 
the broken country immediately surrounding Greylock 
on the east, north and west, is unequalled. 

In the exquisite valleys round about the mountain 
are Adams with Greylock itself within its limits. North 
Adams where is the site of old fort Massachusetts, 
Williamstown the home of Williams College, all in 
delightful settings; while Clarksburg, north of North 
Adams, is a town of wondrous scenic charm, and from 
its hills inspiring views of Greylock may be obtained. 

There, too, may be seen "rocks with furrows chis- 
eled into them by primitive icebergs;" Florida, with 

[7] 



THE GLORY OF G R E Y L O C K 

its mountain pierced by the Hoosac Tunnel — Florida, 
looking from whose heights Washington Gladden, 
whose footsteps have left their imprint on all these 
hills, said "every artist, whether in words or colors, 
ought to look upon this landscape." 

The fathers loved these hills. We are not the first to 
enjoy these mountain views. As far back as 1799 Ex- 
President Timothy Dwight of Yale took President 
Fitch, the first President of Williams, for his first trip 
to Greylock. They ascended the mountain from the 
north, over the Wilbur farm. The account of that 
journey made on horseback from Williamstown, of the 
mountain as it then appeared, with the description of 
the scenery, still holds its place as the standard. It 
may be read in Dwight's Travels in New England and 
New York. 

Professor Hitchcock, afterward President of Amherst 
College, traversing the county as state geologist in 
1841, gave descriptions ,of this region which chal- 
lenge admiration. Mrs. Hitchcock was the delineator 
of that great work, and a comparison of the illustra- 
tions with the modern photograph discloses the march 
of progress. Thoreau's brief visit to Greylock dis- 
closed a Berkshire sunrise. One could not begin to 
quote from those who during the nineteenth century 
penned descriptions of those scenes. Have you ever 
read the first chapter of the History of Pittsfield? 

Ever since the pioneers parted the leaves and looked 
out from the eastern mountain slopes upon the wooded 
hills and vales of Berkshire our people have appreciated 
their scenic heritage. 

Looking upon villages nestling in the valleys or far 
up the hillsides, one recalls the names of many old-time 





Top. Adams, and the Hoosacs. 
Bottom. Raven's Crag, North Adams, and the Whitcomb Hills. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

inhabitants. Here dwelt men and women who delighted 
in this hill scenery. The record book of the Berkshire 
Jubilee (1844) is full of appreciation. Recall the words 
of President Mark Hopkins of Williams, the chron- 
icles of Miss Catherine M. Sedgwick, wherein, allud- 
ing to the hills and valleys, she wrote "in beauty hath 
the Lord made them;" Mrs. Sigourney's classic poem 
"The Stockbridge Bowl," Fanny Kemble's delicately 
descriptive lines, Oliver Wendell Holmes ' address and 
cold water poem, the other addresses and poems, with 
their many allusions to the loved Berkshire environ- 
ment. 

But to continue our drive. For about a mile the 
nearly level way continues to Mitchell Brook. This 
little stream falls over the steepest of cliffs between 
the enclosing ridges to the New Ashford valley. It is 
the most sequestered place imaginable. A few hundred 
feet down west from the roadway one is completely 
shut out from the world. Only the hardiest will at- 
tempt to clamber down this way to the valley road, 
ever so far below. 

For five and one half miles we have climbed the 
Rockwell Road and are at its northern ending within 
the reservation proper. The way has revealed near-by 
and distant views of great charm and beauty. The 
drive down, however, will be even more attractive. 
It is sometimes called "the sunset drive from Grey- 
lock." By moonlight it is one of the most fascinating 
of the Berkshire roads. 

Have you ever come down this road at sunrise when 
the southern Berkshire valley, with the encircling moun- 
tains, welcomed the coming of the day.f* In storm, 
sunlight, at twilight and in bright starlight, one is 

\ 9 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

surprised at the transformation of the scene. For one 
who delights in such matters and studies to grasp the 
little details of picturesque natural scenery, this rough 
road down the mountain ridge has its charm for every 
hour in the day, — for every season of the year. 

Crossing the little bridge over Mitchell Brook an old 
wood road is pointed out on the left leading northerly 
down the mountain side, whence by a curve to the right 
through the woods, a way on foot from the south to 
the Heart of Greylock may be found. 

Perhaps you have visited the spot from the Camping 
Ground above, or traced the seven little brooks thread- 
ing their wild, steep way down to the heart of Grey- 
lock and the Roaring Brook below. One cannot under- 
stand the full beauty, the sequestered delight of the 
reservation, until one has followed down these little 
streams. 

THE CATHEDRAL WOODS 

Leaving the main road we follow the old temporary 
road, soon to be closed, northerly until it crosses the 
new road leading to Stony Ledge. Turning to the left 
we pass through the slender, straight and stately 
spruces known as the Cathedral Woods, and the full 
beauty of the wild-wood is revealed. The carriages 
stop for a moment, a hand being raised for silence. 

" It was the carol of a bird. 

It ceased, and then it came again. 
The sweetest song ear ever heard." 

THE CAMPING GROUND 

For more than sixty years this has been a favorite 
camp for the professors and good people of Williams- 

fiol 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

town. It is an ideal spot lying southerly of a little 
brook nearby the Hopper trail. A half mile to the 
north the trail goes down for a mile or more into the 
Hopper, wide and smooth and steep, 

Over the foot- worn path the students of Williams 

have clambered 
Year after year in search of the rare delights 

of the mountain. 

The drive passes around a curve about four hundred 
feet northerly of the camp, where happy friends pass 
glorious days amid sylvan scenes of rare delight, all 
meeting for the sunset and the twilight hour "while 
daylight dwindles and the dusk falls fast." 

Have you ever pitched your tent at the Camping 
Ground ? If so, you have seen, through the poet's eyes. 

The moon like a flower 
In heaven's high bower. 

As the night breeze stirred the leafy tree-tops you 
have watched the quickly-moving shadows thrown 
upon the ground beneath, interlaced with the swiftly 
shifting splashes of moonlight, weird, uncanny if the 
mood is on, or reminding one of the lightly lilting steps 
of the shy fairies weaving in and out the quaint mazes 
of their graceful woodland dances, and I am sure you 
will appreciate the imaginative delicacy of Shelley's 
delightful, rhythmic lines. 

That orbed maiden, with white fire laden. 

Whom mortals call the moon. 
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 

By the midnight breezes strewn; 

fill 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 

Which only the angels hear, 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. 

The stars peep behind her and peer. 

Yes! you have camped here in the autumn weather 
and heeding your call I have joined you on the ledge, 
soon to be described, have heard you repeat Longfel- 
low's descriptive verse. This was your call, "Come! 
feast your eyes upon the clouds, their shadows resting 
on the hills and the changing foliage of the trees cling- 
ing to the steep, rugged, westerly side of Greylock ! " 
and these were the lines 

There is a beautiful spirit breathing now 

Its mellow richness on the clustered trees 
And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, 

Pouring new glory on the autumn woods 
And dipping in warm light the pillard clouds. 

Standing on the ledge, breathing in the full free 
spirit of the hills, you have flung defiance at the en- 
vironments which hedge in our daily life, exclaiming 
with the rare old poet, 

I care not. Fortune, what you me deny; 

You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace; 
You cannot shut the windows of the sky. 

Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; 
You cannot bar my constant feet to trace 
The woods. 

THE ROAD TO STONY LEDGE 

It is a short, charming drive westerly from the 
Camping Ground over the little plain, a natural park, 
to the opposite hill, where with a loop the road turning 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

to the north climbs through the wood and the southerly- 
portion of the Hopper ravine is opened to view with 
mountains rising on either side to wall it in. With 
exclamations of wonder and delight we come, all too 
quickly, upon the crest of Stony Ledge. Thou shalt 
look 

"down into the secret of the glens 

And streams that with their bordering thickets strive 
To hide their windings." 

"Strong, well balanced men coming upon this height 
for the first time as the scene burst upon their vision 
have been known to act like boys, shouting and ges- 
ticulating in a wild burst of ecstasy." 

The ledge is the southwesterly of the heights en- 
closing the Hopper. Mt. Prospect rises on the north, 
a mile distant, just beyond the ravine through which 
flows the brook eventually seeking the Hudson and 
the sea. On each side of Mt. Prospect the eye takes in 
the Vermont hills, beautiful in outline, rare pictures 
framed in by nearby peaks. To the right of Prospect 
is the Wilbur clearing, forming the northern boundary 
of the Hopper, dipping in a gracefully curving line 
easterly to Mt. Williams. Mt. Williams is the northern 
peak as one traces them southward, then Mt. Fitch 
with its royal wealth of fir-trees, then, highest of all, 
towering two thousand feet above the ravine below, is 
Greylock just opposite us on the east. Still farther 
south are the two peaks of Saddle Ball, sloping to the 
steep descent called Jones' Nose. 

Greylock is the center of the chain. " One is lost in 
admiration," Professor Bascom writes, " where one has 
the whole side of Greylock clothed in forest, directly 

fl3l 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

before him, held at so favorable an angle and at so 
convenient a distance as to disclose perfectly its every 
part." These hills rise far above the ledge on which 
one stands, while between, the gorge goes down a thou- 
sand feet to the vale below. To carry the eyes from 
the bottom of the ravine to these heights is but a 
glance, yet every foot as the eye moves presents a line 
of beauty. The bank of trees and foliage, now dark, 
now brighter green, extends from north to south for 
six miles. Such another hedge of forest trees cannot 
be seen at so close a range within the Commonwealth. 

This scene delights the eye, rests the mind and will 
ever draw one back to gaze upon its fascinating beauty. 
What must this scene present in the "golden autumn" 
with the "yellow woodland to a russet turning" ? 

At intervals in the ravines on the steep inclines may 
be traced the courses of the brooklets winding down 
through the interlacing foliage to the Hopper brook 
below. Who will describe the shadows of the clouds 
resting upon these hills ? From the ledge the full 
beauty of the gorge bursts upon the vision. Like the 
gorge of the Alpheios in Arcadia the ravines are due 
to millions of years of water action or erosion. The 
hills are similarly well-wooded, as in the Grecian gorge, 
but here the eye traces among the trees half hidden 
brooks outlined in the deep inclines of the hills. 

It takes but a slight stretch of the imagination to 
picture, in place of the Hopper Brook the broader river 
Alpheios in the Grecian gorge. One may gaze by the 
hour upon the opposite heights and note, when the 
light is right, the heart-shaped forest enclosed by the 
curving outline of the brooks, the meeting of the steep 
inclines, the long line of the Inner Hopper, the long 

[14 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

steep reaches of the woodlands, the curving Hne of the 
Wilbur Clearing from Prospect to Mt. Williams, the 
stream 

" which has hewn 
His pathway through the hills," 

the deep depressions enclosing a thousand acres, where 
the erosions of ages have chiseled out the once solid 
mountain range, forming great gorges, where Nature 
"has striven to conceal with young forests all her 
ancient scars." 

Here we may look at Nature's work during the mil- 
lenniums, and with the Chinese poet see where 

" The story of a miUion years 

In one brief morning hes unrolled." 

Here every new glance is a new cause of delight. 
Here every keen observer notes new beauty. There is 
such a variety of colors and shades that the varying 
lights of the live-long day reveal unexpected visions 
of rare loveliness. 

To appreciate these hills, time must be taken. They 
must be visited day and night, in sunshine, when skies 
are clouded and in the storm. One hasty, careless, 
glance is not sufficient. At times the scene is beyond 
description. Here one may witness "rolling shapes of 
cloud moving in rhythmic change." One who has 
been so fortunate as to be here at sunset when the sky 
is filled with light-winged clouds will not forget the 
changing beauty of the great forests, the colored spaces 
of the sky "blended insensibly and yet always in per- 
fect harmony" above the distant hills. These natural 
pictures are beyond the power of the artist to place 

fl5l 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

upon the canvas. Here nature yields revelations of 
beauty appealing to the highest in man. 

A passion for high mountains, it is said, "involves 
a certain imagination and poetry in a man, a love of 
fine things for their own sake, of achievement apart 
from tangible rewards." You recall those three sen- 
tences, written over fifty years ago in "European 
Mosaic," "Beauty both in nature and art is felt by 
the sense, but recognized and comprehended by the 
understanding. Hence the varied attractions of a 
noble landscape can be appreciated only by persons of 
cultivation and refinement. To such they afford the 
most innocent and delightful of all the enjoyments of 
earth." 

One whose soul is attuned to the reception of im- 
pressions derived from natural scenery, will delight in 
the views from this ledge. The climb up the rude, rustic 
rounds of the rough ladder of the spruce tower well 
repays the effort. The extended view takes in, on the 
north-west, the nearby Williamstown valley, the home 
of Williams College with its associations of culture and 
refinement; on the north the Vermont hills, a view of 
endless delight; on the south and southwest the hills 
of southern Berkshire and New York, while on the 
west is the entire Taconic range with far off mountains 
in the background, the Catskills and the Adirondacks. 

THE ROAD TO THE SUMMIT* 

Retracing the way to "the high bridge" the drive is 
continued up the mountain, halting only on the "Cut 
Off " road for exquisite views of Williamstown, framed 

* This was the first piece of roadway built after the reservation 
was established. It was quite a diflBcult undertaking at the time. 

[16 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

between the Hopper hills, and for a light lunch on 
" the switch-back road." Beyond, the road, winding up 
into mystery through the woodland, clinging to the 
mountain side, climbs the last four-fifths of a mile in 
a semi-circle around the easterly side of the Greylock 
peak. Just before the curving cut through the solid 
rock is reached, the view to the south overlooks " the 
green and rolling forest tops" and valley to Monu- 
ment Mountain in southern Berkshire. From North 
Adams on the north, to far below Pittsfield in the south, 
extends the eastern Berkshire valley, with Adams in the 
east two thousand five hundred feet below the road- 
way. 

Who will picture in words the charm of that varied 
view, the cloud effects upon the valley, the mountain, 
and far up the sides of the great Hoosac range! 

What a picture the valley presents at night, its whole 
length dotted with bright points and great circles of 
electric lights showing where the populations center! 
From this distance as one looks down upon them it is 
not so much the convenience and safety they afford the 
traveller upon the highways that impresses one, as the 
exceeding beauty of the great circles and long lines of 
separated light points winding with the roadways. 
They connect the neighborhoods ; they are so friendly 
in the night. 

Its location, of exceeding beauty, under the general legislative 
act for a road over the mountain, was selected by the then board of 
County Commissioners; Col. Frank S. Richardson of North 
Adams, Mr. WilUam P. Wood of Pittsfield and Mr. William C. 
Dalzell of Egremont, in whose lasting honor it has been called 
"The County Commissioner's Road." 

[17 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

UPON THE SUMMIT 

We have left our homes, our piazzas (little enchanted 
spots where we have the benefit of our neighbors* 
delightfully kept enclosures with their greenswards, 
shrubs and flowers) , and the elm-shaded streets with the 
arches of green overhead. We have come from the 
rooms of our daily work, the business streets hedged in 
by buildings, the clangor and confusion of a city's 
traffic. We have driven by our lake, through the quiet 
neighboring village street, enjoying the vistas of the 
picturesque valley, and the views in driving up the 
mountain ridge north of Lanesborough. We have 
caught glimpses of distant mountains, viewed the 
southern Berkshire valley, stood upon Round's Rock 
passed through the Cathedral Woods, seen the Camp- 
ing Ground, looked down from the heights of Stony 
Ledge into the ravines of the Hopper, driven thence 
up the mountain side and now find ourselves upon the 
summit tower, 3545 feet above the sea. 

We overlook valleys and mountain ranges in a cir- 
cumference with a radius of over a hundred miles. Here 
are the wide spaces of the earth and sky contrasting 
greatly with the little environs of our homes. In this 
our day of freedom we enjoy abundant light, svv^eetness 
and beauty. 

The views from the tower are enjoyed, and yet we 
are not satisfied. We are here but for a brief time. If 
only we could lengthen our stay ! Here we could pass 
the days, amid the delights of the woodland, threading 
the forest paths to "the leafy retreats of the moun- 
tain, " hearing the birds and their song. We could listen 
to nature, our nurse, as she told her wonderful story. 

[181 




Top. Northeast from Tower. 

Middle- Adams from Bellows-Pipe. 

Bottom. The County Commissioner's Road, below the cut in the rocks. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

We could watch the clouds in the morning like a view 
of the ocean from the beach, and anon the clouds drift- 
ing away would reveal the hills and the valleys and the 
mist-wreaths creeping along the sides of the moun- 
tains. 

We could exclaim with delight as the breeze lifts the 
curtain of cloud disclosing Mts. Holyoke and Tom 
as they stand on guard at the river; Wachusett smil- 
ing its greeting, Monadnock with the light on its 
forehead, the White Hills in upper New Hampshire, 
the Green Hills of Vermont in grand outline, the rock- 
topped peak of Mt. Marcy, buttressed by masses of 
beauty, the Catskills of legend and story, — making a 
circuit well filled "with peak above peak and range 
beyond range," stretching away in the distance. 

When the days ' tramps were ended we would rest in 
view of the sunset, when the after-glow faded, delight- 
ing in the flood of the moonlight, charmed with the 
softened visions of beauty, above us "the firmament 
studded with bright constellations." With Emerson 
we would enjoy the sunset clouds, the delicately emerg- 
ing stars. Standing on the tower we would long to 
tramp these hills in storm and sunshine; to follow 
these trails in the recurring seasons ; to use snow shoes 
or "ski" in winter; to see the winter sunrises and sunsets; 
to watch the varying light reflected on the smooth 
white surface of the snow, the flush of crimson and 
the wondrous hues that lend a beauty to the far horizon 
and near-by landscapes; gr to observe the trees after 
the ice storms when, 

"The earth to fairy land is changed 
With glittering silver sheeted o'er." 

[19 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

"A shower of gems is strewed around 
The flowers of winter rich and rare; 
Rubies and sapphires deck the ground, 
The topaz, emerald all are there." 

"The morning sun with cloudless ray, 

His powerless splendor round us streams; 
From crusted bough, and twinkling spray, 
Fly back unloosed the rainbow beams." 

How we would wish to breathe in the freshness of 
spring, to revel in the delights of summer and the 
glories of autumn! How we would long to enjoy the 
mornings and evenings and the ever-changing scenes 
of earth and sky! With what exhiliration would we 
breast the storms and the winds blowing over the 
mountain heights. You recall Burt's lines in Scribner's 
Magazine. 

God has lent the wind to you. 

Swept the great sweet mind of you; 
Keen and clean and splendid as the morn on peaks aglow. 

Peace of sunny hidden hollows 
Down whose slope the long light follows, 

And the hush is musical with dripping mountain stream. 
Things like these are part of you, 

Soul and mind and heart of you; 
Winds and storms and sunny days and sparkling dawn- wet brush. 

Standing on the tower we could wish to be here 
*' awaiting the waking of the dawn, whose breath blows 
out the stars." 

Oh could we be here when 

" Over that wide sky 

Dawn her strange glory flings!" 

[20 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Could we be here when the mist surrounds the tower 
like an ocean, when the mist-waves storm the moun- 
tain crest, like the breakers on the beach ; driven by 
the south wind they hurl themselves into "the Bellows 
Pipe," a thousand feet below; the sun rises above the 
wide ocean of the mist, while the morning breeze tears 
aside the thick curtain, revealing the mountains, val- 
leys and lakes ; or when, after the sudden, sharp, short 
summer showers the sun pushes down through the mist 
into the valley of "the Hopper," with the speed of a 
sword-thrust, lighting up with its quick flashing the 
divided mist cloud, revealing in contrast the green 
earth far beneath; — could we witness these scenes we 
should forever after hold in memory an appreciation of 
the exquisite masterpieces which nature here repeatedly 
hangs in her gallery of pictures. 

Could we but see on a clear morning the sun rising 
high over "the ocean of the sunrise," (the Atlantic), 
gilding the mountain-tops with the splendor of the 
morn, then we would exclaim with the poet 
Thompson : — 

Yonder comes the powerful king of day. 
Rejoicing in the east, The lessening cloud, 

The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
lUum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 

Betoken glad. 

Could we note at evening the scenes the poets have so 
felicitously described, "The rugged line of peaks sil- 
houetted against the golden afterglow of the sunset, 
the flush left by the sun's last lingering beams kissing 
the pale skies, the fainter blush such as might tinge a 
maiden's dreams, and after the fading of the clouds the 

[211 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

crimson light when evening is falHng to sleep in the 
west and twinkle like diamonds the stars in the skies." 

" Oh the hush and the magic of moonlight, when the shadows 
are soft to the feet," 

Were it permitted us to enjoy all these entrancing 
scenes, language would prove inadequate to express 
our great delight, 

" For nature here to us unfolds 
The soul of beauty that she holds." 



221 



TEN DAYS ON THE GREYLOCK 
CAMPING GROUND 



" Amid the clamor of the street 
The fancy often fills 
With far-off thoughts, I hve again 
Among the streams and hills," 

" Where the woodpecker laughs at his own little joke. 

And the squirrels are shy of your glance, 
And the blue bells are spread like a carpet of smoke 
Where the Fairies at nightfall may dance." 



TEN DAYS ON THE GREYLOCK 
CAMPING GROUND 

In 1907 we climbed "the Cheshire Harbor trail " and 
passed the night in the little red house on the summit of 
Greylock. 

In the morning we walked down past " the camping 
ground," crossed the fields up to "Stony Ledge/* 
walked back through the camping ground and south- 
erly over the old road to Mitchell Book, thence down 
"the Rockwell Road," completed that year, to Mrs. 
Arthur A. Webster's, on the Northup Road in Lanes- 
borough — in all fifteen miles over trails, fields and 
mountain roads. That was merely a walking trip. 

Who could resist the appeal in 1909! "You remem- 
ber how you told us of tramping all one day on the 
mountain and quoted those lines to show how you 
enjoyed it: — 

*At early dawn I took my way 
My heart with peals of gladness rang 
Nor could I leave the woods all day, 
Because the birds so sweetly sang.' 

It is your duty. Father dear, to get better acquainted 
with the mountain. It is only fourteen miles, by the 
new roads, from Pittsfield to the camping ground. Two 
years ago you said you would take us this year all the 
way to Stony Ledge by a roadway. The roads are 
built and we girls do so wish to go camping ! " 

In the realm of excursions often the brightest mo- 
ments are beforehand, when kindred minds foregather 
to talk matters over. Then the mind revels in glori- 
ous anticipations, and each tells the other of the charm- 

[25 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

ing scenes to be witnessed and the grand good times in 
store. The talk is vivacious and the impression of what 
is to happen, the dehghts that await the travelers, grow 
with the talk. They planned it all, and I, although 
Hearing the Psalmists' limit of age, must needs join 
them for a ten days' outing. 

THE CAMPING GROUND, GREYLOCK MOUNTAIN 

July 15, 1909 
I sing of sunrise, sunset, night, 
Of moon and stars, of mountain heights. 
Of sweet surprises in the flight 
Of happy hours, 'mid new delights. 
I sing of cliffs, ravines, and little brooks. 
Of far-off mountains make my theme. 
Of mists and trees and quiet nooks. 
Of songs of thrushes — these I deem 
Make up a joyous realm of peace. 

Mr. Newton kindly gave up the day to bring me with 
the tents to this delightful spot. We drove, in an open 
wagon, from Pittsfield, through the charming Lanes- 
boro street. Everybody nodded to William, and, on 
inquiry, I found he was related to nearly everyone along 
the way. We enjoyed the scenery as we drove up the 
hills, and William told of his fishing excursions on the 
neighboring streams. From what he said I inferred 
he was not as leisurely, in his way of fishing the moun- 
tain streams, as the old Chinese poet Li T'ai Po, who 
described his method thus, 

"Like princely fisherman of yore 
Beside a babbling brook, 
I sit upon a mossy bank 
And drop my baited hook." 
[26] 




Upper Left. 
Lower Left. 



Summit Tower. 

The Cathedral Woods. 



Upper Right. 
Lower Right. 



In "The Heart of Greylock. 
On North Adams Road. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Perhaps the Chinese method was not as catching as 
WiUiam's, who always returns with a basket, full 
laden. William is an expert angler, and active; his 
stories are entertaining, and genuine. 

We compared notes as to our camping experiences 
' and when we reached the camping ground undertook 
to set up the tents. It had been several years since 
we had camped out, but we complimented each other 
on the knowledge of such matters our mutual speech 
confessed. We had no difficulty with the little "A" 
tent, but when we tried to set up "the wall tent" our 
troubles began. We measured the ground, drove the 
pegs and placing the top bar within the canvas, with 
the poles duly dove-tailed, proceeded to raise that 
tent. There proved to be a tangled mass of guy ropes; 
the edifice persisted in falling down, so we rested. As 
we ate our lunch William told me and I told William 
how it might be done. 

We made repeated efforts to set that tent up. It was 
useless! I told William that Captain John Nicholson 
had confided to me that his banner military company 
could set up tents, pegs and all, in seven minutes. 
We always did admire that company! In the summer 
evenings we often watched their drill on the south 
side of Park Square, but we wondered how they could 
set up tents so quickly, and we knew that when 
Captain Nicholson made a statement, it was emphatic 
and correct. William's only military experience, to be 
sure, had been as drum major of St. Joseph's Band, (and 
" he was a dandy ") and mine, in carrying a wooden gun 
in the infants' drill, in the Plunkett's garden, at the 
outbreak of the Civil War. We were nonplussed until 
we made the discovery that we had been trying to set 

[271 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

that wall tent up inside out. When we placed the top 
bar on the real inside of the tent it unfolded majesti- 
cally and the guy ropes held it in place. It is strange 
how one forgets the simplest things as the years go by. 

Now that the tents were set up I thanked William 
and he drove back to Pittsfield. 

Reconnoitering the surroundings of the camp, ex- 
amining the little brooks on either side, the groves of 
spruce, the open park to the north, exploring the near- 
by paths and trails, to "the vista" in the high tree-top, 
to Sunset Rock, the Hopper Trail and the new road to 
Stony Ledge, collecting fire wood for the night, watch- 
ing the glow of sunset through the trees, kept me inter- 
ested for a time. Imperceptibly the shadows lengthened 
and faded. Just before the stars came out, I heard 
"the sweet flute-note that the wood thrush knows, 
serene, liquid, transparent." All was peacefu,! as the 
hush of evening fell upon the woods. 

Retiring at nine, I passed the night in the larger tent, 
sleeping soundly on spruce boughs, wrapped in my 
blanket, until far in the night. When I awoke the north- 
erly side of the tent, next the spruces, was dark, the 
southerly side next the open camp-ground, was suf- 
fused with a barely perceptible mellow light. I watched 
for an hour the delicate transparency, expecting every 
moment to see the fairies dancing in the tent. 

Friday, the 16!h: — 

Light was breaking at half past three. Unfastening 
the door of the tent, I looked out upon the coming of 
the day. 

" Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn 
Bid Nature's voice and Nature's beauty rise; 
[281 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

While orient Phoebus, with unborrow'd hues, 

Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept 

In heavenly drapery! Darkness is fled. 

Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun. 

And, blushing, kiss the beams he sends to wake them." 

Those peaceful, delicious early morning hours, alas 
so many of us miss them. Washing my face at the 
brook I ate the lunch reserved from yesterday and was 
ready for the morning's work. There were the flat 
stones, left by the last year's campers, where the great 
fire had been. These I arranged in a circle to go around 
the camp fire, and then I played and worked like a boy 
rebuilding the little dam at the brook. It was indeed 
great fun and took me back full sixty years to the time 
we Pittsfield boys built the dam on "little brook" near 
Curtis' Woods. That little brook 

" Oft to its warbling waters drew 
Our little feet when life was new." 

You may not find it now, for the beautiful wood, the 
brook, the bushes where the hazel nuts grew, long since 
have disappeared with the march of the encroaching 
city. Once in a while I meet a boy who recalls those 
engineering days when all the world was young. We 
would hardly know the reflection of our faces in the 
water now, but then the stream kissed our rosy cheeks, 
and after the dam was built, we bathed in the water 
in the happy consciousness of deeds well done. Shall 
we ever be boys again! At length the little dam was 
finished. The water ran over it. It would be far easier 
now to get water for the camp. 

I rested from my labors, on the grass in the open 
space north of the camping ground, 

[29 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

"Adown full safetley I gan to sink 
And leaning on my elbow and my side," 

shading the eyes with the hand, watched the clouds, 
the fields, and woods. 

"Touched with the lavish miracles of earth, 
I felt the brave persistence of the grass; 
The far desire of rivulets; the keen 
Unconquerable fervor of the thrush; 
The lichens strength; 
The constancy of flowers; 
The eternal struggles and eternal deaths, 
And yet the groping faith of every root ! 
And thrilling with a new sweet restlessness 
The thing that was my boyhood woke in me." 

" When all was quiet, the wild things of the wood one 
by one would cautiously bestir themselves. I would 
become aware of faint, mysterious movements in the 
leaves. Unseen wings would rustle exquisitely close to 
my ear; or a twig would quiver as some tiny bird 
alighted for an instant." 

" The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, 
Their thoughts I cannot measure, — 
But the least motion which they made 
It seemed a thrill of pleasure." 

I looked down the slope where the tops of the tall 
grasses and ferns were swaying, until I imagined them 
little fairy folk nodding their heads "as they reeled^ 
tossed and danced in the gentle breeze." They looked 
so gay, those little people, in their fairy head-gear. 
" Their bendings and flutterings were very graceful and 
attractive " as they exchanged their gentle courtesies, 

[301 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

their affectionate glances and little confidences. One 
could almost hear them whispering and talking. 

How one wished one knew their happy language. 
How the mind goes back to our childhood days when 
we knew the fairies really existed, when we drank in 
so eagerly the beliefs of the long ago. You may call it, 
if you will, a realm of pure fancy, this realm of the 
little people. " Congenial to them are the most deli- 
cate things in nature, flowers, dewdrops, butterflies 
and nightingales." They still people the solitudes, are 
the "comforters and lovers of mortals. They are 
busy folk with a bustling world of their own." They 
are still our fairies whom we so delighted in during our 
childhood. They truly belong to the "dainty, graceful 
world of the marvellous." We delight to be with them, 
to dream with them, when we are in the forest. There 
is a charm, a witchery about them that carries us "out 
of the world back to the twilight land of our childhood." 

These recollections of our childhood bring to mind 
the first stanza of the Ode of Wordsworth 

" There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 

The earth, and every common sight 
To me did seem 

Apparell'ed in celestial light, 
The glory and the freshness of a dream," 

And we love to read the closing lines, where yet 

" To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 

Soon two men came from the summit of Greylock, 
built a small bridge at the camp entrance and cleared 
up the grounds. The girls came at mid-day; Irene, 

[311 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Grace and Esther. They had tales to tell of the three 
deer they had seen, of how Samuel Bridges' splendid 
horses, the black and the grey, had all they could do to 
pull the heavily laden "democrat wagon'* up the hills. 

After Ben, who had brought them from Pittsfield, 
had left them at the foot of the Rockwell Road, six 
and a half miles from camp, they had walked up the 
hills, and when the pelting storm struck them, they had 
sought shelter under "the big wagon." Their appear- 
ance confirmed their story. You should have seen 
them! Cheeks rosy with the exercise of walking, eyes 
fairly sparkling with delight, hair falling down their 
backs, long stockings and shoes wet through, wet as 
mermaids ! 

With a cheer they invaded the camp, and took pos- 
session ; sought their tent, changed their apparel and 
superintended the unpacking of the wagon. They 
worked with great enthusiasm, swung a line from tree 
to tree and hung out coats and blankets which the 
storm had dampened. You should have seen the goods 
they brought; boxes, cots, blankets, crockery, provi- 
sions, slickers and hats. Their luggage filled both 
tents. They never rested until everything was prop- 
erly arranged. Then they prepared and served an 
excellent lunch. 

There was a faint halloo in the distance, then again 
the call was louder. Who could it be calling from the 
road above the camping ground ? I ran up the brook, 
and there, on the opposite bank amid the spruces, 
was my fellow commissioner Mr. Sperry, who, driving 
down from the " Ledge," had sought me to tell of the 
reservation work which always lies near his heart. 
We talked a few minutes, and he then rejoined his 

[32] 



Top. The ocean of mist seen from the summit. 

Middle. The ocean of mist pouring down into the Bellows-Pipe, a thousand feet below. 

Bottom. South from Tower in early morning. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

friends in the carriage. I wished he could have tarried 
longer. 

At six o'clock we all went up to Stony Ledge. The 
girls started out with slickers on, which they soon dis- 
carded, blossoming out in the neatest of bloomers. It 
was quite a transformation! There were, however, 
more serious things in store. It was here, amid these 
peaceful, lovely scenes, that the revered Professor Albert 
Hopkins and his friends were wont to delight their 
souls and find refreshment. "The anciently reported 
spell of the place crept upon us as we ventured into the 
region of sunset." Here we tarried long " and in silence, 
watching the rose creep into gold, the purple into the 
rose." 

During the night a deer came down the path behind 
the girls' tent, stopped suddenly, and rushed away in 
the forest. 

Saturday, the 17th: — 

" Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops." 

After breakfast, taking our lunch, we walked to the 
summit, three miles, thence down the North Adams 
road, one third of a mile, to the trail leading to the 
Inner Hopper. We ventured down that rugged trail, 
sat upon the great rock, and gazed over that quiet 
valley to the hills of sunlight far beyond. It was a 
place for peaceful dreams, 

" And though my money-minded neighbor deems 
Of little worth the things that I have done, 
Far dearer to the dreamer are his dreams 

Than all the wealth by worldly wisdom won." 

[33] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Clambering back to the road, we continued down to 
"the Wilbur Clearing" (three miles north of the sum- 
mit), where the girls feasted on the wild strawberries. 
I crossed the clearing (known as Wilbur Park) 800 feet, 
to the point where the trail leads to Mt. Simonds, the 
highest part of the Mt. Prospect range. It was late, 
and we retraced our steps to the summit of Mt. Grey- 
lock. 

We noted that the line of stakes, set for a road 
around the westerly side of Greylock peak, reached the 
North Adams road about 900 feet south of the iron kettle. 
This proposed road will have a grade of about 23/^ per 
cent and will be the most level of any of the mountain 
roads. To avoid the steep grades on the 900 feet it 
may be necessary to build a loop.* 

The girls came down from the summit to the camp 
by the abandoned temporary road and trails, stopping 
at " the Mossy Spring," although they lost their way 
at one point. I came around by the easier, longer road- 
way over " the high bridge," at leisure of course, enjoy- 
ing the sunset through the trees. My late arrival 
caused some anxiety, but a rare evening meal was 
ready. 

Sunday, the 18th : — 

Hawthorne and Thoreau knew how to become inti- 
mate with scenes of nature; — they walked. Better to 
drive than not to go at all, but those whose observa- 
tions are worth recording, usually have gone the slower 
way. They thus have time and opportunity to note 
the details. They go, too, where no roads lead. When 
in doubt on Greylock, take a trail. 

* That piece of road was built in 1912. 

[341 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Of all quiet places to pass the Sabbath, the Camping 
Ground is beyond comparison the most restful! It is 
the stillest place — that is, when the girls are not shout- 
ing gleefully, happy in the thought of freedom from 
the restraint of their good mothers. 

All breakfasted late, — effect of Sunday habit of 
course. Bauer and his man came and took Esther and 
me down into "the Heart of Greylock," where the 
"Roaring Brook" is fed by the seven little streamlets 
from above. It is a wild, romantic spot; rocks and 
cliffs, little cascades and cool streams trickling over 
steep places. 

If you wish exercise, try that wild, steep trail. " Such 
toil gives to those paths a zest sublime." Follow down 
the brook from the camping ground and you cannot 
miss the way. At times the scene is quite fairy-like, 
when we see the great trees, the rocks, 

"And streams that fall, half dew, half air, 
Through silver mists the old hills wear." 

After heavy showers, when the little brooks are full, 
the wildness of the place is very attractive. One climbs 
down the steep trail holding on to the large trees past 
great overhanging rocks. From a height of 75 feet 
above, the united streams flow down to a small pool 
hollowed out in the rocky basin of the brook. The 
steep inclines rise on either side. Above and around 
are bushes and trees. " Not a sunbeam can enter and 
a kind of mysterious twilight pervades the spot. In 
Greece it would have been chosen for an oracle." 

A cup of bouillon greeted our return to camp, which 
the gentle Irene served us. It equalled the nectar 
Hebe prepared for the Olympian Gods. We dined at 

[351 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

"the Brookside Inn." On the south side of the 
little brook amid the spruces, just north of the camping 
ground, but a trifle lower, a canopy was placed 
over high wooden posts. The ground beneath was 
as hard and smooth as a floor. Under the canopy a 
long board table was built. Two planks, on short 
posts at the sides, served as seats. Here we took 
our meals. It was a lovely spot, and we called it 
"the Brookside Inn." 

Short, sharp showers came at intervals and we 
sought shelter. Judging from the peals of laughter 
coming from the girls' tent they were enjoying their 
Sunday observances. There being no church nearby, I 
sought the Cathedral Woods, the very name suggest- 
ing a sanctuary, and, in due time, returned with fire- 
wood for the night. 

Soon after, Francis and Ben appeared. They had 
tramped to the summit by the Cheshire Harbor trail, 
where, enquiring the way to camp, they came to find 
us; and, not knowing they were so near, had sought 
shelter from the showers in the nearby deserted huts 
of the men from Southern Italy, the road builders on 
our mountain. There I found them. They brought 
the news from the outer world, remained an hour, had 
coffee and sandwiches, and left for Cheshire at five 
o'clock. They did not seem to mind the fifteen mile 
walk through mist and rain. They had come to see if 
anything was needed for our comfort. 

The dining room floor of "the Brookside Inn" was 
swept in anticipation of to-morrow's guests. The rain 
ceased at evening and the girls took lessons in sawing 
wood. They sawed up into four-feet lengths the tall 
old tree Francis had cut down. We started a brisk fire 

[36 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

from smaller pieces within the square of logs, and when 
the coals were red, made delicious slices of toast from 
the loaf Ben had brought us. It was a feast fit for a king ! 
When the night came on we piled the fire high with 
dry spruce tops, and as the light breeze fanned the 
flames into dazzling brightness, firelight photographs 
were taken. The camp-fire spluttered and sparkled 
far into the night, but the square of logs was intact 
in the morning. 

Monday, Hie 19th : — 

"There is ever a song somewhere, my dear." *'It is 
dawn. Faint light has come. The trees are phan- 
toms." The Hopper and the Bacon Park, just north 
of the Camping Grounds, are filled with mist. You 
recall John Muir's description, "a bluish-gray mist 
which creeps slowly over the heights, and on its way 
leaves fragments of itself clinging to the outskirts of 
the forest." 

Could it be too late in the season? No! Sometimes 
even into midsummer the birds will sing. A full chorus 
of song at this season would be exceptional yet we 
were hoping it might be heard. The heat and blaze 
of our midsummer sun, it is said, silence most of our 
birds, but not necessarily on Greylock. "A single 
bird note fell upon our ears, that first call of a bird, 
startled at discovering day." " At first the birds seemed 
singing singly on the edges of the groves. Soon from 
every bush and tree the united song burst forth," the 
full, sweet concert of the birds. Trills and warblings 
intermingled in a glory of rich melody. Who can de- 
scribe that full hour! 

Listen the choir is singing; all the birds are singing!" 

[37 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

After the birds had ceased their morning chorus 
there could still be heard in the distance occasional solo 
singers sending messages of good cheer. 

Have you chanced to hear the Hermit thrush? 
" He sings . . . 
Like a spirit whose nesting is peace." 

I was refreshed by a morning bath at the little brook, 
and later, under Grace's guidance, Irene and Esther 
went down. Judging from the happy sounds which 
floated up through the woods, there was a merry, 
splashing time. Other campers here have improvised 
a shower bath. 

No guests as yet. They will come in clearer weather. 
The girls sawed up another large old tree for the camp- 
fire, and Irene carried off the honors. It is a useful and 
glorious exercise, and one may be forgiven for encourag- 
ing young people by insisting that the exercise brings 
roses to the cheeks ; adding strength to beauty, espe- 
cially if one escapes sawing the wood one's self. I 
knew that Irene, as a child, could skip down our street 
as if she were set on electric wires ; I knew that as she 
grew older her twinkling little feet could fairly fly in 
the graceful dance, but I had not realized before that 
she could so skillfully saw up firewood for the camp — 
but you never can tell what the modern young woman 
can accomplish when she really sets out. 

THE CLIMB TO STONY LEDGE 
Have you ever chanced to hear one singing the sweet 
song, " Boats sail on the rivers, 

And ships sail on the seas; 
But clouds that sail across the sky 
Are prettier far than these." 
[38] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

After an early supper, with the clearing weather, 
came the walk to Stony Ledge. "The flowers were full 
of wet sweetness in the sun, and the landscape was like 
one great washed jewel in the afternoon light." The 
sky was filled with light, fleecy clouds, like cigar- 
shaped aeroplanes, their edges glowing in the sunset 
light. The long spaces of the sky over the distant hills 
were veiled in hues of beauty. We marvelled at the 
delicately blending interwoven colors. 

Just where the sun went down there was the appear- 
ance of an illuminated castle buttressed with stately 
towers. We had never witnessed a rarer beauty than 
that which clung about the close of that summer's day. 
While the sky and clouds passed through various 
changes in the lightly tinted colorings, the shadows 
softly crept up the steep westerly side of Greylock. 
At length the fading light warned us to cease our dream- 
ing, and reluctantly we returned to camp, walking back 
in the evening shadows, grateful that such a vision had 
been vouchsafed us. 

"Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
Had in her sober livery all things clad; 
Silence accompany'd." . . . 

Later in the evening the great fire was built. The 
dry spruce tree-tops, thrown aside the year before by 
the road builders, flashed wide sheets of flame as we 
discussed the heavenly bodies in the wide arch of 
heaven above us — Mars and its inhabitants, the known 
distances of the other planets, and here Grace, (though 
the youngest), carried off the honors; modern inven- 
tions in electricity and the wonders of the woods and 
hills. 

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THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 



Tuesday, the 20th : — 

" Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning." 

We brought down a fallen tree from the trail and 
made ready for our expected guests. They arrived at 
noon, bringing Clara to take Grace's place. All dined 
at "the Brookside Inn " our kind friends having brought 
various dainties to replenish our woodland larder. It 
would be impossible to repeat the hon mots that enliv- 
ened that glorious feast. Good cheer at this Inn is 
proverbial ! 

After dining came the trip to Stony Ledge to view 
"the Hopper" and the mountains. 

"How many million years have gone to mould 
Those mountain fastnesses ? " 

The view from the spruce tower was delightful. We 
noted the long line of the recent land-slide in "the 
Inner Hopper," on the Dewey Phillips tract, and traced 
the heart-shaped leaf-hidden brooks in the deep in- 
clines on the steep westerly side of Greylock and the 
enchanting view toward Mt. Everett. The Vermont 
hills, on each side Mt. Simonds, were very attractive, 
and the mountains on the west! 

This was the day of days for the distant views. Just 
beyond the narrow western valley rose the long line 
of the Taconics, with here and there a rounded summit; 
their sides pierced with gorges, down into which the 
lengthening afternoon shadows slowly creep. Beyond 
was a second line of hills. Still beyond, far in the north 
west, rose the higher peaks — a friendly, family group 
of mountains circling about their chief, Mt. Marcy, — 
the delightful region of the Adirondacks whose sum- 
mits at sunset are flushed with crimson — distant moun- 

[401 





Top. Greylock from the south, overlooking the city ol Putslicld. 

Middle. Adams from the summit. 

Bottom. The Camping-ground. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

tains far above the horizon, forever resting in stately 
peace. 

After our guests had departed, the three girls went 
down through the woods toward the sunset ; to while 
away an hour at the brook, leaving me to read the 
papers of the last few days kindly left by our guests. 
I note that Herbert Latham, the aviator, has half 
way crossed the English Channel from Sangatte, 
France, and that a Pittsfield man is trying to interest 
aeroplane manufacturers to send machines to the 
Berkshires. We may yet be able to fly from intellec- 
tual and industrial Pittsfield to Greylock 

" Sailing with supreme dominion 
Through the azure deep of air." 

The idea of an " air line road " to Greylock was always 
captivating. 

WE FIND OURSELVES HAPPY TO BE HERE 

There is something amid these mountains to appeal 
to everyone. To observe the little things about us is 
to find joy everywhere ; but here especially. It was 
Stevenson who wrote "the spirit of delight comes often 
upon small wings." It was Hodgson who wrote of 
The Man in the Hills 

"And when the clouds are on the land 
In shelter he may lie, 
And watch adown the misty glens 

The rain go marching by, 
Along the silent flanks of fells 
Whose heads are in the sky. " 

Here we have at break of day the wonder of the 

[41] 



THE GLORY OF GBEYLOCK 

dawn, the colors of the sky at sunrise, the open day, 
the view of nearby and distant mountains, the open 
spaces and the forests, the wild flowers and the ferns, 
the clouds, the birds on the wing or in their nests, the 
woodland paths, the sunset, the twilight and the stars, 
the moon and the great mysteries of the night. They 
tell us the geologist finds here a wide field for inves- 
tigating the formation of the mountains and the 
Hopper, that the botanist is greatly interested. We 
all may not be so deeply versed as they, but every lover 
of nature can find many things to delight in, every 
artist enough to fill his sketch book, and all of us some- 
thing of interest. 

It is indeed good just to be here. This camping 
ground, small but sheltered, is such a lovely spot. I 
know of no other where such peace and quiet are, save 
where our friend is camping near the Cascade on 
Money Brook. 

"And lo! where davming day doth never peepe, 
His dwelling is, . . . . 
And more to lull him in his slumber soft 
A trickling streame from high rocks tumbling downe, 
No other noise, nor people's troubled cryes, 
As still are wont to annoy the wall'd towne, 
Might there be heard; but careless Quiet lyes, 
Wrapt in eternall silence." .... 

One loves to recall these sentences from the old book 
published in Charlestown in 1800. "Happy he whose 
innocent life passes ... in the enjoyment of the 
beauties of nature. The whole creation smiles upon 
him, and joy attends him wherever he goes, and under 
whatever shade he reposes. Pleasure springs out of 

[42] 



THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 

every source, exhales from each flower and resounds in 
every grove. Happy he who takes pleasure in inno- 
cent delights. His mind is serene as a calm summer's 
day. His affections are gentle and pure as the per- 
fume of the flowers around him." 

By the way, what better companion can there be 
than a good old book? 

" Oh for a booke and a shady nooke, 

With the green leaves whispering overhead 

Where I may read all at my ease 
Both of the new and old. 

For a jolly good booke wherein to looke 
Is better to me than gold." 

But here come the girls, and I must gather the 
wood! 

Wednesday, the 21st: — 

" When shaws be sheene and swards full fayre. 
And leaves both large and longe, 
It is merrye walking in the fayre forest 
To hear the small birdie's song." 

"What lightness, delicacy and grace the bird pos- 
sesses." I know you are familiar with that sentence. 
We enjoyed the five hours' trip from the Camping 
Ground up to "the lower divide," and thence southerly 
over the newly outlined trail toward Saddle Ball. 
The birds sang sweetly all along the way, chanting 
melody on every bush. The mother birds flew away 
from their nests on hearing our approach. Such cun- 
ning nests ; one, with four white eggs, tucked away under 
its leafy covering in the very middle of the trail. 

f 431 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

This walk in the remote and secluded recesses of the 
mountain was one to be cherished in the memory. We 
heard sweet, delicious strains of melody which touched 
responsive chords, bird notes full of tenderness. Amid 
these wild and silent woods we heard notes illusive, 
simple, plaintive. We listened until our souls were 
filled with gentle, sweet sensations. 

Have you ever stopped to think it all over.f^ Where did 
the birds come from.'^ If it be true that in the begin- 
ning the soul was called from other worlds, that at the 
end it will leave the body and fly hence elsewhere, 
may it not be that the plaintive note of the wood bird 
wakes in us some dim consciousness, some remembrance 
that somewhere, sometime, we were amid even fairer 
scenes than these ? 

This was the first party to go over the newly out- 
lined path. A well-graded drive should follow\ The 
people of central and southern Berkshire would greatly 
enjoy such a way, while those from the north would 
delight in the wide view to the south. 

Thursday, the 22nd: — 

Clara kept camp while Irene, Esther and I walked to 
the summit. With Earle Bauer I went down the North 
Adams road until we could just see the iron kettle and 
thence, by a blind trail, over the ridge easterly to the 
Bellows Pipe trail, and thence far down the trail to the 
Bellows Pipe pasture. The vale sweeps up gracefully 
from the north, curving over to the south, a beautiful 
spot where on a bright day one forgets that at times 
the wind sweeps through between the heights with 
great velocity. 

Thoreau's trip to the mountain, (before 1839) was up 

[441 



THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 

through the Notch and Bellows Pipe. He first went 
on to Ravenscrag on the east and sighted a diagonal 
line to the summit, lining the trees to keep his course 
as he climbed. He preferred not to follow the old 
path. The story of his trip, of the mountain-top then 
tree-covered, of his night alone on the mountain, of the 
sunrise above the clouds, may be found in his ** Week 
on the Concord and Merrimac." 

Friday, the 23rd: — 

A southerly storm and the camp slept late. The 
girls brought down boards and kindlings from the old 
Italian camp. They looked like boys in caps and closely 
buttoned slickers. They are excellent campers, fear- 
less, careful and very good cooks. In the afternoon 
Esther made fudge and the girls kept their tents, while 
I looked over my directions of how to reach Greylock 
and a short general article on the Hopper. The fire 
went out Jn the storm and camp was prepared for a 
rainy night. The camp slept amid the pattering of 
rain drops on the tents, a gentle, soothing, sleep-com- 
pelling sound. You recall those exquisitely humorous 
little lines, 

" But we always know 
That the sun will shine again 

In a day or so." 

Saturday, the 2^th : — 

The camp fire was built at six. Still the rain and 
when not raining a deep, deep mist. Breakfast at 
eight. A mist and the light pattering of the showers. 
**Wet green woods and bramble-dew." Everything 
was clean and fresh as I went up to "the cathedral 
woods," even the leaves had washed their faces, but the 

[45 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 



birds hardly had peeped. They will only warble a 
few notes until the weather clears. 

Knowing that we were soon to break camp, and that 
our stock of wood was running low, I ventured to place 
on the fire the great round log the girls had sawed out and 
placed for a seat near the fire. This was a mistake ! When 
the fair-haired, gentle Irene discovered the sacrilege 
and beheld the log wrapped in flames, she noted not 
the beauty of the glowing fire but fairly blazed herself. 
Too late I regretted my hasty action. The splendid 
log burned beautifully, lasting throughout our stay, 
but ever since I have been careful, attentive and very 
quiet when the graceful Irene is about. Even old Virgil 
long, long ago questioned "Can there be such anger in 
celestial minds .'^" 

The fudge holds out and is delicious. The sun came 
out at three o'clock. Irene and Clara went Up to the 
summit. They came down by the roads in three quar- 
ters of an hour. They are swift walkers. 

Sunday, the 25th : — 

The mist and bad weather continued, "the morning 
mist hiding the high mountain crest." Irene and 
Esther went down into "the Heart of Greylock," one of 
the fairy fastnesses of the mountain, to bathe in the 
little pool. They were gone two hours. 

" Soon the summer's sweetness 
AU the land will fill, 
Murk and mist no longer 
Hide the distant hill." 

It cleared off about two o'clock. Francis came up 
from Cheshire and then some quaint photographs were 

[46] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

taken. After lunch we all went up to Stony Ledge. 
Francis and I came bac^ to camp, and he left at twenty 
minutes after five for his walk down the hills. In the 
evening we sat around the circle of the great fire re- 
peating poetry and recalling the writings about the 
Berkshire Hills; Pres. Dwight's of Yale, in his "Travels 
in New England and New York," Pres. Hitchcock's as 
state geologist, Thoreau's wondrous description of the 
sunrise, Mrs. Sigourney's classic poem "The Stock- 
bridge Bowl," Miss Sedgwick's writings, Hawthorne's 
little descriptions of the Greylock range. Holmes, Long- 
fellow, Bryant and Herman Melville, (and here Clara 
carried off the honors). 

The fire of glowing logs, the shower of sparks as the 
dry spruce tops kindle into flame, lighting up the green 
of the young trees encircling the camp and the dark- 
some spruces beyond, the stars shining forth in the 
sky above as the fire dies down, the quiet of the night, 
the pause in the low, sweet converse as each one is 
occupied with gentle thoughts, — these all will be re- 
called, and the picture of the camp fire, the tents, the 
woods, will remain an ever pleasing memory. After 
the girls had retired to their tent for the night, I sought 
my own and took out the old book for a quiet reading. 
They tell us that the love and appreciation of the 
beautiful in nature is a modern acquirement, but this 
old book, which I prize so highly as the gift of a friend, 
was written over a hundred years ago and has in it 
quotations from still an earlier work. Let us read a 
few sentences : — 

" The soft air of the spring awakens the winged song- 
sters, the variety of whose music charms the ear and 
fills the soul with a sweet and a serene pleasure. These 

[471 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

splendid inhabitants of the air possess all those qual- 
ities that can soothe the heart and please the fancy; 
the brightest colors; the roundest forms; the most 
lively manners; and the sweetest music: They enliven 
our walks; and throughout all the retreats of retire- 
ment, fill our hearts with gaiety, and give harmony to 
meditation." 

Here is another — "With what pure joy the soul is 
filled, in contemplating the beauties of creation! When 
the mountains and valleys grow green before our eyes; 
when the lark soaring in the bright clouds, and the 
feathered choiristers in the shady grove, warble their 
sweet song; when the flowers perfume the air around 
us ; when the morning dawn diffuses universal glad- 
ness; or when the setting sun tinges our woods and 
hills with the finest glow; what happiness does the 
enjoyment of nature in full beauty afford us!" 

How the sentences in the old book run on — "Where- 
soever we go; whether we climb the hills; range the 
valleys; or seek the shade of the forests; a variety of 
beauties present themselves to us; all different from 
each other, but each possessed of charm suflScient to 
engage our attention. The pleasing notes and the 
various melody of the birds fill our hearts with a sweet 
and innocent delight." 

We love to read these quaint old sentences with the 
long s's, and we delight in the thought of sharing with 
the worthies of by-gone generations the enthusiasm 
which the life in the open ever engenders. Long, long 
ago our forbears found pleasure in the groves, the 
vales and upon the mountains. The generations to 
come may use different phrases, may write from othejr 
standpoints, but the good people of the olden time 

f 481 




Top. Greylock from the east. 

Middle. On the North Adams road. 

Bottom. The Cottage from the tower, and the old barn on the right (1910). The Taconics in the west. 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

fully grasped and appreciated their beautiful natural 
surroundings — nay, more, they looked so reverently 
from nature up to nature's God, They believed, too, 
in what Carlyle has termed " the divineness in these 
laboratories of ours," and he continues " We ought not 
to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not 
what else were well worth remembering." 

Even these old worthies may have taken their in- 
spiration from the sacred lyrics of the Psalms, those 
wonderful descriptions of earth, sea and sky which 
have never been matched in all our modern literature. 

Camping upon these mountains, near the four 
highest points in Massachusetts, is delightful! From 
these high places the hills about us wear differing as- 
pects under changing conditions of the atmosphere. 
At times, clear and distinct, they seem so near, so 
intimate and friendly. At times they melt away into 
the blue distances, while the cultivated fields, the 
ranges of hills, the winding valleys, stretch far away 
into new and inspiring beauty — a veritable dream -land 
realm. 

When the clouds gather and the storm threatens, 
they sometimes wear a forbidding look, but when the 
storm is over they are clothed in glorious sunshine. 
When the light-winged, fleecy clouds float along the 
sky the shadows chase each other over the hills and 
one never tires of watching. The hills are great com- 
panions. They seem almost human in their moods. 
They cultivate serenity. They insensibly appeal to 
us. After the strife, the cares, the turmoil of life, it 
is sweet to rest in their quiet companionship. The 
plains are lovely, but the hills are the camping grounds 
of the gods themselves. 

[491 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

The tonic of the mountain air, gentle exercise, op- 
portunity for reflection, for meditation, which **is not 
the dream but the reahty of Hfe," the quiet, rest, 
bring much of pleasure ; but the love of grasses, the 
ferns, the wild flowers, of all the things that grow, the 
beauty of the sunrise, day, the sunset, the star-lit sky, 
the different shaped trees, the form and coloring of 
their bark and leaves, the little streams trickling over 
the steep cliffs, their rocky edges fringed with mosses 
and the lichens ; all the colors blending in delicate har- 
mony, the mnumerable little things noted along the 
mountain trails, the fascinating lights and shades, the 
deep ravines, the wildness of the enclosed secluded 
little spaces, "the swift passing shadows of wind- 
driven clouds" — the love of all these, and more, yields 
a delight unspeakable. Camping here, amid these 
mountains, is something more than a summer's day 
outing ! 

"Nothing is lacking to complete the charm and per- 
fection of this spot save the presence of a scholar," 
who could tell us of its history and its beauty. Could 
we have here Prof. Albert Hopkins, Thoreau, Haw- 
thorne, Prof. A. L. Perry, Prof. Edward Hitchcock, or 
Miss Catherine Sedgwick, who once delighted in these 
mountains and made a study of them, and could we 
listen to their discussions, we should understand more 
fully the wonder and delight of it all, as they pointed 
out attractions which had escaped our notice. 

We are waiting, too, for the skilled writer, who is 
even now translating for us the natural beauties of 
southern Berkshire, to pitch his tent for a season upon 
those heights. There is a call here for his interpreta- 
tion of these scenes. 

[501 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

Monday, the 26th : — 

The home call has come. A most beautiful day. 
We should enjoy a longer stay amid such peaceful 
scenes. Never mind ! — 

" Blue mists will wrap the hill, dear, 

And echoes haunt the glen, 
And sunbeams kiss the rill, dear. 
When summer comes again." 

Such a time we had striking and folding up the tents, 
getting ready for the wagon. Mr. McDonald, who lives 
in the cottage where the four roads meet, near the stone 
school-house in upper Lanesborough, soon appeared, 
this time with a pair of blacks. The large "democrat 
wagon" was loaded. It seemed as if room could not 
be found for everything. We had not realized we had 
so many camp belongings. When all was ready a 
photograph was taken. The man in charge knew how 
the luggage should be stowed away. 

Alas for his best laid plans! The girls left the camp 
by the shorter path through " the Cathedral Woods " 
and walked up the road to " the high bridge " where 
they were to await the wagon. I followed behind the 
wagon to see that nothing was lost. Just over the brook 
by the camp one back wheel sank into the soft earth. 
The horses stopped and could not start. The heavy 
load tilted to one side. I placed my shoulder to the 
wheel; McDonald gently urged his horses. The com- 
bined efiFort was unavailing. That wagon never budged. 

On our second trial the nigh horse balked. The 
driver was patient and rearranged the harness. It 
was impossible to back and start anew. We thought 
of expedients to which one sometimes resorts on such 

[51] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

occasions ; putting a pebble in the horse's ear to distract 
his attention from the things of earth; burning brush 
under him to remind him of the wrath to come; but we 
tried in other ways, — stroked his head, patted his neck. 

After a time of waiting, while the birds sang, oh so 
sweetly! in the thicket, a gentle breeze came down 
from the Wilbur clearing three miles away, through 
"the Hopper "and up the trail, bearing the fragrance 
of strawberries and luscious growing grass, and that 
horse started with a jump, dragging the other horse, 
driver, load and all. With a warlike whoop from 
McDonald we cleared the ground a few feet, and then 
that horse stopped again, turned his head, laid back 
his ears, planted his feet. 

At such a time how the soul longs for a dictionary of 
refined expressions. The words from the old book 
came to mind as I looked about me: *'0 how beautiful 
is nature. The grass and flowers grow luxurious; the 
trees are covered with foliage, the gentle zephyr salutes 
us; the flocks seek their pasture; the tender bleating 
lambs skip and rejoice in their existence; (I hear and 
see them now on Stony Ledge) ; millions of points of 
grass rise up in this field and to each point hangs a 
drop of dew. What harmony in the notes of the birds 
from yonder hill. Everything expresses joy; every- 
thing inspires it. It reigns in the hills and dales, in 
the woods and in the groves. O how beautiful is 
nature!" 

That is all very fine of course, but here just now is 
this stubborn animal. I wonder if that worthy old 
author ever had anything to do with a balky horse ? 
If he ever did, I warrant you he walloped him till the 
hair came off in patches. As a last resort I began to 

[52] 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

sing "Merrily we roll along, roll along." Perhaps it 
was some suggestion, some sweet reminiscence, or 
sheer fright at my rendering of the air ; at all events 
that horse started. It was a joyful moment, and I 
realized, as never before, the power of song. 

Alas! how brief the fleeting joys of earth! Without 
any reason whatever, unexpectedly, the nigh hind 
wheel buckled under. There followed the bending of 
spokes, an ominous crackling, and the spokes showed 
their ends white on the hub and rim of the wheel and 
again we stopped. If one will go camping, with a big 
loaded wagon, one must be equal to emergencies! 

Taking a tent pole from the wagon, bracing it against 
the strong wide step, turning the wheel meanwhile, 
prying upon the felloes, we bent the rim of that wheel 
into proper form. Buckets of water were lugged from 
the brook, poured upon the hubs and spokes. We had 
escaped the soft spot in the road, been gentle with a 
balky horse, overcome the dryness of parched wood, 
and had actually progressed about 200 feet from camp. 
The birds still sang their lovely melodies. Oh! the 
harmony of Nature! 

Again we started, but that old hind wheel struck a 
grass-hidden rock and you should have seen the load 
tumble out, first the great hats, such as worn that 
year by gentle maidens, then brass-buckled slick- 
ers with their sprawling arms, then the frying pans» 
such a clatter! then the pails and blankets, and, with a 
final crash profound, the great dry goods box of our 
cherished crockery. 

Great heavens ! how things went tumbling into chaos ! 
The frightened horses started. The cots alone were 
left upon the wagon. Where were the girls! We 

[53 1 



THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 

needed them to gather up the shattered outfit. We 
would be feminists, suflFragettes, any old thing if we 
could only have aid. It was yet a distance to the main 
road. We drove there, tethered one horse, and went 
back to pick up the debris, reloading with great care. 
The birds continued their sweet song. It is restful to 
be with nature! 

In due time we reached the high bridge. Esther 
came to meet us. Clara had gone back over the short 
path but had failed to find us. Irene was placed high 
up on the driver's seat. Clara and Esther trailed down 
the road behind the heavily laden wagon. I was left 
behind and walked down the road to the site of the old 
Bennett house, thence down toward the Cummings 
farm house, and over the road in construction, to the 
birches, near the FoUett lot, thence back to the Cum- 
mings house and down to Cheshire, ten miles in all. 

At Cheshire the car was waiting. The open railway 
carriages speed fast through Berkshire evening shad- 
ows. Have you ever noticed how cold the ride is after 
the weary miles of mountain tramping? 

There is no other place in the Commonwealth like 
Greylock ! 

Who can forget " those deep, deep woods, 
The long, long road of the heart's desire. 
The care-free vagrant hours, 
The dusky woods where cooUng shadows he. 
The mountain heights, in distance looming high. 
The purple flushing of the eastern sky, 
The stately progress of the sun toward even. 
Night's mantle dropping from the quiet heaven." 

We shall miss the peace that mountains possess, the 
"tender moments of the morning and the twilight" 

[54 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 

"The chorus of birds when the summer day closes 
The laughter of rills and the whisper of trees." 

In these days there are many articles written about 
the birds. Here are some suggestions from reading one: 

There is a charm of elusiveness and mystery asso- 
ciated with winged things. In the last days of snow we 
watch for the birds. We are left in loneliness when, 
after the summer, they are gone. In the autumn there 
are the empty bird nests. So many of them leave the 
"winter silences" behind them. 

We quote three sentences entire: "Their wisdom I 
envy, their sky wisdom and earth wisdom, their exquis- 
ite skill in building, their canny household ways. They 
have "the charm of music, and motion, and color. In 
their very elusiveness lies the deepest appeal of this 
people of the air." 

Greylock is the sylvan abode of the birds. " Where 
else can you find deeper shades, . . . where else can 
you listen to the songs of endless birds which with their 
music refresh the weary soul and charm the tired senses 
to sleep . " " The air is full of light and song — the woods » 
valleys, mountains and (little brooks) laugh for joy." 

On Greylock "the sky is blue and the sun and stars 
seem to shine more brightly than in any other place on 
earth." Because of the situation in these delicious 
hills, it is a Paradise, and ever more, because of enjoy- 
able companionship. Whenever you have the chance, 
flee " from the din and turmoil of the city and enjoy 
the rural delights dear to your soul." 

Should you ask us what was the greatest charm of 
this ten days' outing, the gentle companionship, the 
beautiful camp near the brook, the walks amid sylvan 
scenes where "the tempered light of the woods is like a 

[55 1 



THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 



perpetual morning," the wild beauty of the rough 
woodland trails, the forest, the little brooks in the steep 
rocky gorges, the shadows of the clouds upon the 
mountain sides, the nearby bank of forest trees, tower- 
ing a thousand feet above us and stretching along for 
six miles, the wondrous ravines, the Hopper, the sight 
of the great hills themselves, the distant view of moun- 
tains, the superb sunsets, the star-strewn sky, the camp 
fire ; we would answer that we found a chief delight in 
the singing of the birds, when first we heard 

"A low, thick, lubric gurgle, soft as love, 
Yet sad as memory, through the silence poured 
Like starlight," 

as the thrush's song "trembled through the stillness, at 
the delicious hour of gloaming." 

Nothing can equal the twilight anthem of the birds! 



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